


The Library In Charlotte

by InRetrospect



Category: Havemercy Series - Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett
Genre: F/F, Gen, a tour de force i can assure you, dmitri stresses out over thremedon: the series, everyone else babies dmitri: the other series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:59:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InRetrospect/pseuds/InRetrospect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buildings are moving around Thremedon of their own volition, which means the Provost must attempt to get to the bottom of things.  Attempt being the operative word.</p><p>Lovingly ripped off of Dani's sentient Thremedon fic.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Had I not dealt with enough of this city’s shenanigans over the past few years, I would have been cussing like a Mollyrat long ago.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Library In Charlotte

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IWasHereMomentsAgo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWasHereMomentsAgo/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Thremedon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1585157) by [IWasHereMomentsAgo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWasHereMomentsAgo/pseuds/IWasHereMomentsAgo). 



DMITRI

I allowed myself one lone, solitary, “Fuck.”

One of the junior Wolves- a new Pup, just out of training a few weeks ago- still paused at the door, staring like I’d ripped off my jacket and pants. I swore very little as Provost, and none around Malahide, so I supposed it was a bit of a rare occurrence. Still, in a crisis like this, I could be afforded a little loosening of self restraint. Just a little. That was all I asked from this ridiculous, ridiculous job.

Had I not dealt with enough of this city’s shenanigans over the past few years, I would have been cussing like a Mollyrat long ago.

I rolled my shoulders and heaved a sigh. “Come in,” I told the Pup, and stood up from my desk chair. From the chaotic noise I could hear as she opened the door a little wider, we were all on our last strings.

The Pup saluted, and I hid a small smile as she pulled out some scraps of paper from her pocket. Even during times like these. “It’s getting worse,” she said. “All three girls are-- I mean, the public library’s disappeared and reappeared in Charlotte, Our Lady’s in the middle of the Rue in front of the ‘Versity, the Palace and the Basquiat are by the Mollydocks, and we’ve only found five of the airmen statues so far.” She whipped off her hat and fiddled with the edge of the brim, sinking into the floor a little. “Sir, I’m sorry if I’m being frank, but we have no idea what to do.”

I nodded. I took the time to sigh again. “That’s alright,” I told the Pup, raking a hand through my hair. It was getting long again. “I’m not sure any of us ever thought something like this might happen. But thank you for getting this all to me, and tell the others on patrol thank you as well.” It wasn’t quite a natural disaster- natural disasters could at least be blamed on the weather. We knew how to deal with fires, after they’d become so frequent during the war. We dealt with flooding in Molly almost every year. Buildings teleporting around the city at whim? Not in my wildest nightmares. Ripping off my clothes and diving out the nearest window was starting to seem like a reasonable course of action.

Instead, I gripped my hair and told myself to start being the damn Provost. I slid open my desk drawer and gathered what I thought I might need- my wallet, a few more notes, paper, charcoal stick, my baton, a few spare daggers. It felt better with things in my boots and pockets. The weather was too hot for my overcoat, but I grabbed my heavy gloves out of the pockets and pulled them on, then checked my watch. It was getting on in the morning. We’d all been on shift too long.

The Pup coughed. “May I- sir?”

“Close your eyes for a minute, would you?” I said. She put her hat in front of her face, and I waited a moment, just to make sure, before going to the solitary bureau in the corner. Most of it was files, lots and lots of old files that were just a bit too sensitive to be kept in the basement. I got on my knees and reached underneath, popping the lock and pulling the bottom drawer open.

I pulled my sword out. When I first took up the job of protecting the city, I’d promised myself a proper, expensive sword, just in case I ever had need of it. The forger had made me a bastard, a hand and a half that was as wide as my arm and nearly as long, the hilt wrapped in leather and the sheath inscribed with Old Ramanthe. It felt silly toting it back and forth between home and the office every day, but now I was rather glad of it. It made me feel better when the city seemed to be crunching in on itself. I closed the drawer and walked for the door, clapping the Pup on the shoulder.

“I think we need to call a meeting,” I said. She caught sight of the sword and nodded.

My office was on the top floor, mostly because that was where the previous Provost had put his office. Walking across the hall, I opened the door and coughed. It quietened, a little.

“We’re meeting in the atrium, now,” I hollered. “Tell everyone else as you come downstairs.” Unfortunately, I forgot that they would all need to leave the room somehow. I left the doorway as they swarmed towards me and dashed for the staircase, sword in hand.

As a public building, we had an atrium on the first floor, with high wooden ceilings and regularly-cleaned desks lining the walls. It was supposed to be open to the public to file complaints and requests, but I had never actually seen a civilian there. Charlotte didn’t bother, Miranda tried to file requests with me half the time, and I would eat my hat if a Mollyrat came to us to uphold the law. Still, it was rather packed as I crossed the polished floors, making more sound than I usually cared to, and shoved my way up to one of the desks. A man in a jacket was complaining loudly to one of the receptionists, who looked like she wanted to hide under her desk.

“Excuse me,” I grumbled out. The man whipped around, so I stared at him until he moved about a foot to the left. “Sorry,” I told the receptionist as I thunked my sword down on the counter and clambered up. Malahide frequently chided me for climbing on public property, and that just because I now had the authority to get away with what social faux pas I’d wanted to commit as a child, didn’t mean I had to clamber all over things like a small bear. I usually told her that I could do whatever I wanted and that she could stop psychoanalyzing me, thank you very much. It wasn’t like I enjoyed being stared at like this.

Standing, I buckled my sword onto my belt as officers and desk workers and patrolmen started flooding through the stairwell. The civilians made room. It took barely five minutes for the crowd to assemble in a vague lump, and I reminded myself that when this was all over, I would have to thank them for their punctuality. And give them a day off.

I coughed and tried to seem as imposing as physically possible. “Alright,” I shouted, and the murmurs hit a quieter level, good enough for now. “We all need to be on the same page. Buildings from Miranda, Charlotte, and Molly are teleporting across the city, and we don’t know why yet. So far, the palace and the Basquiat are at the Mollydocks, Our Lady is by the ‘Versity, the main library is smack in the middle of Charlotte, and the airmen statues are bastion knows where. The people in the buildings don’t appear to be harmed. Any other disturbances since then?”

“Quite a bit of residential movement in Miranda,” someone drawled out from the back.

“The streets aren’t working properly anymore,” another shouted.

I frowned, but there was no time to ask what anyone meant, other than very bad things. “Okay. We’re assuming it’s magic, for lack of a better explanation right now. Who’s the highest ranking magician in today?”

There was quite a bit of murmuring, then a stouter man made his way to the front. “Terragrave, sir,” he said with a salute.

“Do you have any idea?” I asked. “At all?”

He frowned for quite a while, shrugging and shaking his head. “Telekinesis isn’t my area of talent,” he said, “But of the few I do know, I don’t think anyone has the sheer power to move such large masses, and the people inside, with such precision. Not to mention on multiple occasions within such a short time span.”

I nodded. My face was getting itchy, so I rubbed it and said, “Thank you anyways. Okay. Our first priority is to make sure people are alright. Get everyone off the streets, send everyone home from work unless they’re one of us, the military, or doctors, or emergency crew, you know. Even if people’s buildings do move with them inside, it doesn’t look like they’ll be injured, but who knows if they’re standing on the sidewalks.” Or rioting, I thought to myself. “I need a squad to go down to each of the moved buildings, the big ones first, whoever’s available. We need more information and to respond to what we need to. Keep an eye on the spirals, the side streets if you have any spare time, take note if any other major buildings start moving. Are there any magicians in the officers here?” I asked, already knowing who I wanted to answer.

One of the Commandants shoved her way up to the front. “Sir,” was all she said, her face set and her arms crossed.

“Thank you, Marie,” I murmured to her before turning back to the crowd. “Do what you need to do,” I yelled. “If you need me, I’ll be at the Basquiat, trying to sort this all out.” The roar of chatter started again as I hopped back onto the floor, things clanking in my pockets.

Marie did not offer me a hand, but did wait for me before we started bulldozing our way to the door. “The Basquiat, eh, sir?”

“Well, it is right next to the palace now,” I huffed, readjusting my gloves. “Someone in there has to know something, or have some kind of crazy idea.”

“They do have lots of crazy ideas,” Marie agreed. We threw open the doors and I spotted a coach for hire, a bit of the ways down the street, looking a bit lost. Marie followed.

“Hopefully one of them is right.” I knocked on the door of the coach, and a rather harried-looking man poked his head out. “Can you take us to the Basquiat?” I asked him.

He shrugged and told me, “I can try?” I nodded. That was fair enough. He tossed open the back door and I let Marie clamber inside first, trying not to catch my sword on the doorframe as I sat down. I really wasn’t used to wearing it around. Too big, not tucked into my jacket like my baton was. Marie shot me a look as I tried to close the door. I most definitely did not shrink into the seat.

“So,” the driver asked, turning around in his seat, “Where exactly is the Basquiat now?”

My head snapped up. “Oh. Um, the Mollydocks. Right beside the palace.”

“Well,” the driver snorted as he took up the reins. “Can’t say that’s a bad place for it. Now, let’s see if the Rue will actually take us down, hmm?”

The roads were crowded with annoyed and anxious people, chatting with their neighbours and not entirely sure what to do. It slowed us down, at any rate, and watching out out the window got boring after a while. I checked my watch. Time did not speed up. Marie sighed.

“My hair is a mess,” she growled. “I took in three knifers from a back alley on my shift today. At the same time. I was going to go home and shower. It was already enough of an afro, now it’s just going to be frizzy.”

“Wash it at the docks?” I offered innocently. The heel of Marie’s fist hit the square of my jaw, a warning shot from a woman who could wrench my ears off if she was so inclined. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, right,” she snorted. “Sorry, sir. Oh, look, there’s the library.” I stared out her window- it was, on a street just off the Rue, leading up towards Miranda. “Well, it’s closer to my house than it was before. Actually, I’m pretty happy with that change, let’s just leave it like that.”

“They moved a statue right near our carriage lot,” our driver cut in. “I don’t mind it. Bit more scenic, really. Nicely done statues.”

I pulled my notepad out of my pocket and scribbled that down. Six statues accounted for now. “We’re going to have a fun time trying to relocate those back,” I said off-handedly as I tried to shove the charcoal back in my pocket. We were getting deeper into the heart of Charlotte, about halfway between Miranda and Molly on the coast side. It was, if I said so myself, one of the least pretentious areas of Thremedon, and rather pretty to boot. That was why I’d bought my lodgings there. Peering down the street I usually took to get home, I noticed a large crowd and frowned. They were all clustered around something, about two blocks down, not the corner house but in a bit more. Suddenly, I felt very, very nervous. “Can we just- may I--”

As a rational man, as a man who takes charge when in stressful situations, as a man who has ensured the safety of Thremedon in times of war and political upheavals and chaos, I decided the best course of action would be to open the carriage door and simply fall out. The cobblestones and the knees of my pants did not agree.

I left the carriage behind, not sure whether it bothered to stop and wait for me, and started off down the street. My heart was beating faster than it probably should have, and I picked up into a jog, holding my sword as I ran down the middle of the block. I saw what was wrong before I even hit the street corner. My building was gone.

It felt a little like the time I’d gotten food poisoning as a child, wanting to throw up but knowing I couldn’t, shouldn’t. I made my way through the crowd, tuning out most of the chatter I didn’t want to hear, until I could see the lot where my home used to be. There was no fancy magical residue like I’d seen with certain magicians, no disturbed earth, no massive hole in the ground like would make sense. There was some unkempt grass after the curb hit the street, but that was it. The red corner house was fine, the blue one I lived next to was still there. Mine wasn’t.

I took the time to straighten my cuffs, make sure my sword was buckled on properly, adjust the dagger I’d stuck in my boot, loosen my collar. I refused to think about it, because then I would get worried and upset, and Provosts didn’t get worried and upset. They officially did not.

“Dmitri!” a voice called off to my side somewhere. I ignored it- I wasn’t in the mood for social chats, not right now. I did turn around when the voice snapped, “He’s my neighbour, I’ll call him whatever in th’Esar’s name I want, Dmitri!” It took me a moment to spot her, half of her hair shaved off and gesturing wildly. She was still in her leather work clothes, I noticed, and it made her look much more imposing. Made up for the fact that she was young and short. Well, younger and shorter than me.

“Bea,” I shouted back, and made my way over. I knew Bea, and she knew me. She wouldn’t be yelling at me down the street unless she thought it was important, and she had a good eye for relevance. “What happened?” I asked as soon as we were in talking distance.

She shrugged, “I don’t know, one of your officers came by the tracks and sent all the jockeys home. Your house was gone when I came back. Dmitri--”

“What time did you get home?” I asked. “Has anyone else noticed anything?”

Bea bit her lip. “Dmitri. Stop being a cop for two minutes.”

“What?” I asked, sounding tired even to myself.

“We have your cats,” Bea said. “They’re okay. They’re at our house.”

I nearly did collapse then.

“I found them hiding under the rose bush when I got home,” she continued. “They wanted in our house, of all places. Arson is hiding under the divan and Fraud fluffs up every time every time one of us tries to walk through the living room. Catherine is trying to calm them down with tuna.”

Because there was still a crowd assembled in the street, I didn’t grab Bea’s shoulders or tackle her. I was on the last strings of my decorum, but it was still there. I said, “Thank you,” instead. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

Bea smiled. “Don’t thank me, I won the bet. I don’t have to calm down your cats. They’re like little mob bosses.”

I laughed, a fleeting and unnatural sound, mostly because my head was feeling a little fuzzy. “Tell Catherine thank you for me. Please. I owe you both.”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in and calm them down yourself?” she asked. “Have a cup of coffee? Or are you supposed to be at work still?”

“Oh,” I said. “Ah, yes, actually, I was on my way to the Basquiat, but I got a bit sidetracked.” I looked down the street. “Actually, I should be there right now. Sorry, but I’d better…” I headed off back towards the Rue.

“No worries. Good luck,” Bea grinned.

“You too,” I called, and we waved until I disappeared to the other side of the crowd.

I rounded the corner and sat down, heavily, on the cobblestone curb where the crowd couldn’t see me. My sword clanked and stabbed into my hip, but I couldn’t be bother to move it. It was foolish, but I’d never thought I’d ever get personally involved with anything like this. Of course, I’d fought in the war some. I’d caught muggers, murderers, even punched out someone who’d been taken in on certain assault charges. I’d defused more political scandals than I particularly wanted to remember. But, for all my time on the front lines, never had I once thought anything like this would hit close to home. I was ridiculously proud of the little ways I could disassociate work from the rest of my life, mostly because Malahide was always nagging me about it, and then a demonstration like this hit me in the face and made me realize just how much I was blinding myself. Whatever happened to this city happened to me too, good or bad.

I buried my face in my hands and rubbed my brows, just for a moment. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Thremedon was the only thing I let under my skin. I’d pledged myself to her, after all.

Off in the distance, past my closed eyes, I could hear the clip-clop of hooves and people milling about. I opened my eyes automatically to make sure I wasn’t about to get run over. It was busier than usual, on a weekday like this. Everyone was gathering in the streets like clumps of leaves on a fall day, sweeping by before piling up somewhere convenient. I should have thought of that before I’d ordered everyone the day off work, maybe, I thought wryly as I pulled out my pocketwatch. It had been fifteen minutes, give or take, since I lost track of Marie. She’d be at the Basquiat by now.  
I brushed the dust and charcoal off my watch, put it back, felt in my jacket for my baton, stood up and straightened my back. Marie could handle the Basquiat by herself, that was why I’d made her an officer. I had someone else to take this matter up with.

The streets were fairly crowded, especially with all the carriages trying to shove their way through, so I ended up taking the back streets. Most of the time they ran straight out from the center and down towards the bottom of the city, like spokes on a wheel, and even with the city trying to rearrange itself it was still faster than going all the way around the Rue. It felt like I was a block or two off my entire walk down, though. It got worse as I descended into Molly- there were sub-streets and alleys that, even though I’d been down here often enough, no one but a Mollyrat knew how to navigate. Still, I made my way, parting stragglers with a look and a grip on my sword, until I burst into daylight as I hit the docks.

I was lucky- I’d made it within a block of the Basquiat and the palace. They were perched on a rocky overhang just above a boatyard, barely any room to spare along their length. I was surprised the coast face was holding up under all the weight. I headed for one of the side doors of the palace, much too done with today’s proceedings to bother putting my energy towards formalities. We were in Molly, for bastion’s sake.

A guard nearly went to stop me as I headed for the doors, then corrected himself. I wondered how much of a shambles I looked. I squared my shoulders a little extra, just to make sure.

“Send a message to the Basquiat,” I told him, then corrected, “If you have the time. To the Commandant already there. Tell her I’m at the palace and that I’ll join her shortly.” He nodded, and I nodded back. “If I may speak with Her Imperial Highness,” I told the other guard.

He paused, then gestured inside, so I led the way. Even having moved halfway across the city, the palace still looked as imposing and wealthy as always. It set my teeth on edge. The guard behind me was murmuring something to someone else, and a man with a couple more stripes led me up to the wide steps. I’d not been to th’Esarina’s chambers since she’d taken over. I supposed she had moved into the main rooms.

The guard knocked at the door, peeked around to see the maid nod, then opened it just a bit. “Presenting the Provost of--” He stopped, suddenly.

The door swung all the way open. “Dmitri,” th’Esarina greeted, and I felt something loosen in my neck. Her hair was swept up loosely, showing off the silver on her temples and streaking through, and her gown was simple. Her eyes were alert and her mouth was kind. “Thank you, Nickolai,” she told the guard as she waved me inside. The maid had disappeared like an apparition.

I bowed, properly and formally. She deserved it, of all the people who I had to bow to. “Are you alright?” I asked.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she told me, fiddling with her gloves as she walked. I felt the need to adjust my gloves then too. “The palace is absolutely fine. Everyone is alright. But how is the rest of the city?”

I paused, just for a moment. I had never been particularly forthright with th’Esar. I had never needed to- he had known everything I was about to say anyways. I had grown to loathe reporting to him, after a time, but th’Esarina was different. “No one is injured, that we can tell,” I said first. “All the buildings are fine. A day off has been declared, everyone should be heading to their homes. I’ve sent my Commandant to the Basquiat, but... I’m afraid I have no idea what’s causing this, or how to stop it,” I admitted.

Even as she ducked her head, she smiled at me, though the smile was small. “I thought as much. We’re all very much in the same boat here. Since the Basquiat is so close now,” she noted wryly, “I’ve sent people over to ask of our magicians as well. They’ve made no more progress than either of us, from what I’ve heard.”

“A matter of time, then,” I nearly sighed.

“And patience,” Anastasia agreed. She stopped, then looked at me, for a little while. I fought not to shuffle. Finally, after a moment, she said, “May I be frank with you? Would you mind terribly?”

I answered, slowly, “Of course not.”

“Good,” she replied, “Because you have something all over your face and I must apologize, but it has been annoying me ever since you walked in.” Before I knew it, she was standing just in front of me, stuffing a handkerchief in my face. I automatically took a step back. “No, hold still,” she said, taking a firm hold of my collar.

Whatever I had expected her to say, it hadn’t been that. “Yes, Your Highness,” I said, then felt the need to smack myself for sounding like such a child.

She nearly laughed. “What on earth were you doing? Did you run into Margrave Royston on your way here?”

“Um, I think it might be my writing charcoal,” I said once she had taken her handkerchief away from my face. I paused, then ventured, “Thank you?”

Straightening my collar for me, she grinned, “My petulant Provost. At least let me make myself feel useful whilst you’re off saving our city from impending doom.”

For the first time that day, I felt myself smile. “I’m sure I look a lot less frightening,” I said.

“Less frightening, more harried,” she admitted. “Older than you should.” Her brows knitted, and she turned her head towards the door. “Ah. Here comes the Lady Antoinette.”

“How do you-- oh,” I corrected, as I felt the sudden press of emotion and power on my mind. “Oh, yes, here she comes.” I stepped away from the door accordingly.

Anastasia disappeared off through a side door, and I was rather proud that I did not jump as Lady Antoinette bashed the door open and threw it shut behind her. “The Basquiat is made up of fools and children, and I ought to smack them all up the head,” she announced, rubbing her temples. “Oh, hello, Dmitri. I swear, these idiots traded whatever brains that were in their heads for their Talents.”

“My lady,” I offered. She didn’t reply.

“The tea is getting ready,” Anastasia called, then swept into the room a moment later. “What is it?” she asked, taking Antoinette’s hand and guiding her inside.

Antoinette growled, “It’s the city again. She’s started moving everything around.”

Anastasia started, just a little. “But I thought you said she was mostly dormant,” she frowned.

“Apparently not.” Antoinette sighed and raked her hair back from her face, quite a bit of which had fallen out. “We’ll have a chat. Who knows how long it will take. Knowing her, probably a long while.”

Anastasia put a hand on her shoulder and said, “Well, at least we know what it is now, and how to fix it. Now, sit, and I’ll bring you tea. You as well, Dmitri.” She crossed and opened the side door again, and I could hear a faint whistle.

Neither Antoinette nor I bothered to sit down- me with my sword, Antoinette with the sheer force of her annoyance. She must have seen the confusion in my face, or at least felt it rolling off of me, because she gave me a look. “This is Thremedon, you know. The capital of magical innovation for centuries, this side of the mountains. We created dragons out of metal, for bastion’s sake. A sentient city isn’t the furthest stretch.”

I opened my mouth to say something, then paused, and said instead, “True.” I added, “Actually, this is better than a band of rogue magicians. That was less fun.”

“At least you can give magicians a good whack,” Antoinette argued.

I shrugged. “More paperwork for me, though.” If I could ever get away with being frank, now was the time.

I spotted the smirk she was trying to fight back, even though she was saved by Anastasia returning with two teacups. They were a nice blue filigree, faded as they were. She handed one to me with a smile, then placed one into Antoinette’s hands.

During my years as Provost, I had diffused a lot of political situations. I was forced to exile Caius Greylace by th’Esar, then oversee th’Esar’s removal from the throne. I had walked in on Margrave Royston. But by far the most awkward incident was witnessing my mother pull the monarch of our state in for a kiss. I turned away and let them finish.

I sipped at my tea, then turned back when I heard a cough. Th’Esarina wouldn’t meet my eye, so I asked Antoinette instead, “Did you happen to see the Commandant while you were in the Basquiat?”

She paused, then said, “I think I might have. Most likely. It was crowded.”

I said, “I’d best go on a rescue mission, then,” with some forced joviality that made me feel even more uncomfortable. I looked around for a table to set my teacup down on, which the apartment was surprisingly lacking.

“No, keep it,” Anastasia insisted, her hand still on Antoinette’s waist, “You look like you need it.”

“It’s an ugly tea set anyways,” Antoinette added.

I tried not to shrug or sink into the floor or pull too odd of a face. I bowed instead. “Then I will take my leave. Thank you, Your Highness, my lady,” I said automatically as I backed towards the door. They nodded, and I nodded back, out of reflex. As soon as my hand hit the doorknob, I made my way for the stairs.

It was a bit more difficult to make my way out, trying not to slosh tea all over the marble floors. I decided to walk around to the main doors anyways. Near the middle of the day, it was bound to be just the right kind of sunny down in Molly, with just enough shade not to overheat. Carefully picking my way down the steps, a guard opened the door for me, and I spotted the Commandant waiting at the bottom of the street.

“What was that all about?” she berated as soon as I was within shouting distance. “You just decide to jump out of a moving hansom, don’t bother to bat an eye or tell me where you’re going, and leave me to deal with an entire roomful of magicians on my own? Sir?” she nearly seethed.

I took a sip of my tea. “My house is gone,” I informed her.

Marie’s face dropped a little then. “Oh. Well, have you found it? And what’s this?” She made a grab for the teacup, and I let her have it.

“I managed to secure an audience with th’Esarina,” I said, fiddling with one of my daggers. I always forgot not to stick them in my boots, they jabbed into my ankles every time. “She had done some research of her own, and apparently, Lady Antoinette is dealing with the situation and will have resolved it soon enough.”

Finishing the tea she was sipping, Marie asked, “That’s it?”

I shrugged. “She did seem to be dealing with it. And th’Esarina gave me a cup of tea to take home, so I can’t imagine she’s overly worried,” I reasoned, effectively skirting the question. I trusted my officers- that was why I had made them my officers, after all- but I wasn’t up to the task of explaining a sentient Thremedon to Marie just yet.

“And your house?” She handed the teacup back, now completely empty.

“My neighbours are looking after it.” I sighed, getting rid of a day’s worth of air from my lungs. “Who I owe liquor. The most expensive liquor money can buy.”

Marie snorted, looking up and down the street. “I could go for a beer. Ought to see if I can do an office pool. I can imagine a lot of people would be down for that.”

“Don’t do it where I can officially see it,” I told her. “Pick me up a bottle of usquebaugh and I might forget about this conversation.” I looked up and down the street too, automatically. “Are you waiting for someone?”

Marie cracked, “From the bribery or the alcohol content?” as she scanned down towards the Basquiat. “I am looking for someone, in fact, and… I’ve just found her.” She raised an arm towards the street and shot a look back at me. “The Lady Malahide, in fact.”

I zeroed in on the street and saw her face, with quite the expression emblazoned on it, making her way towards us. For the second time that day, I hid a small, “Fuck,” under my breath.


End file.
